The Pakhan’s Haunted Heart

DMITRI paused just inside the entrance of the warehouse. It was an abandoned one and since no one owned it, they chose this as their meeting place. Neutral ground just like Volsky said. He moved farther in, eyes adjusting to the dim interior. The sound of his steps seemed to echo louder than it was supposed to. At the center stood a folding table and two chairs. A leather folder laid atop of it. A low chuckle vibrated in his throat as he realised how he had finally lost his mind. He wasn’t wearing a tactical vest, no hidden blade. For the first time in his life, the Pakhan of the Red Wolves was unarmed. Love, indeed, could make men reckless. If there was one thing that could explain why he was doing this—it was because of love. It had stripped him of caution, reason and fear. “You came,” Volsky said, closing the distance with an outstretched hand. Dmitry hesitated only a fraction before shaking it. “You asked for peace,” he replied. “I don’t ignore invitations like that.” Standing ten paces away from them was Alyona—Volsky’s daughter and his lover. “I won’t pretend this was easy,” Volsky started, taking his seat. “A father must be sure. You are a wolf, Dmitry. My daughter is… delicate.” “You know better than anyone that I am more than capable of protecting your daughter.” Volsky opened the folder and pushed it toward him a little. “After this night, Alyona will be free. No more choosing between blood and love.” Dmitri’s jaw tightened. “She chooses for herself.” Volsky gave a slow, sickening smile. “You always were a romantic, Dmitry. It’s why you’ll never truly rule.” He checked his watch—a silver Audemars Piguet that glinted in the dark. “And it’s why you didn’t hear them coming.” The huge steel doors at the back of the warehouse suddenly opened with a loud screech. Two black SUVs charged inside, their headlights almost hurting Dmitri’s eyes. Men in hi-tech combat gear—the signature style of Maxim’s syndicate—came rushing out. They weren’t behaving like a mobster; their movements were like those of an army unit. “Father?” It was Alyona. She looked at the Syndicate soldiers, then back at Volsky. “What is the meaning of this? You said this was a peace treaty.” “It is, my dear,” Volsky replied, backing toward a service elevator. “A permanent peace. Just not the kind you were expecting.” “This is not what we agreed upon,” Dmitri snarled. “You see, Dmitri,” he said, almost kindly. “Peace only works when one side survives to enforce it. Tonight, the world gets to watch the two greatest threats to my network burn each other alive.” He slipped a hand into his coat and pulled out a small, black detonator. “Wait!” Dmitri roared, lunging forward, not for Volsky, but for Alyona. “Farewell, Dmitri,” Volsky said calmly. “You’ve played your part beautifully… just the bait I needed.” He turned his gaze toward her daughter, remaining silent. Then he pressed the trigger. A piercing electronic shriek ripped through the air. It was an unmistakable signal of firebombs Volsky had planted in the foundation weeks earlier. The floor didn’t just explode, it exhaled fire. The first blast threw Dmitri backward. Amidst the fiery haze, he saw the Syndicate leader—Maxim—disappearing in a flash. His SUV was swallowed whole by the flames. Despite his injuries, Dmitri forced himself to move toward Alyona, who had been thrown across the room. He knelt beside her with a grunt, every movement sending fire through his ribs. One arm dangled at his side, slicked with blood, but he ignored it, focusing instead on her. “Listen to me,” he said, voice rough but steady. “We’re gonna get you out of here.” “I’m sorry,” Alyona murmured. Dust clung to her hair, and her cheek streaked with blood. “It was a trap. I should have known.” A gunshot cracked somewhere deeper in the building. Then another. Shouts followed. Dmitri shifted, slipping his arm behind her back, hauling her upright despite the way his vision swam. As he pulled her toward a service exit, steel beams snapped free from ceiling supports, crashing down in a violent cascade. His instinct kicked in, he spun around and hurled himself over Alyona. But it was too late. A beam slammed down between them, the force throwing them apart. “Alyona!” She was on the other side of the fallen beam, trapped in a weird position, one leg stuck under the twisted metal. Dmitri scrambled to his feet and ran over to the beam, pushing it with his shoulder and hands, ignoring the pain that was screaming through his whole body. It didn’t move. “Dmitri,” Alyona coughed. “Enough.” “I’m not leaving you,” he growled, grabbing the beam again. “I’ve got you just—” The ceiling above Alyona came crashing down, the flames getting nearer, totally surrounding her. Smoke swallowed half of her body. Alyona’s fingers dug into the concrete as she dragged herself upright despite the pain. “They’re here for you. If you stay, they will kill you.” Dmitri’s head jerked in defiance. “I don’t give a damn. I’m not like your father, Alyona. I’m not turning my back.” Another explosion ripped through the building. A fierce wave of flames erupted. The blast threw Dmitri away and his body hit the wall hard as the fire raged between them. He screamed her name and dragged himself forward again, but the heat was unbearable now. There was no reaching her now. All of a sudden, hands seized his shoulders from behind, wrenching him back. “She’s gone!” Someone shouted over chaos. “We have to move now!” “No—!” Dmitri fought back but with each breath his strength was fading. His legs weakened. The world was spinning. At that very second when the darkness and despair were slowly swallowing him, Dmitri could feel it in his bones—a chilling certainty that would haunt him forever. Alyona was dead.